


Masquerade

by mamey2422



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26044654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamey2422/pseuds/mamey2422
Summary: This was inspired by an amazing drawing by the insanely talented @spacearts on tumblr. Beth and Rio are at a masquerade and then...well I think the drawing speaks for itself: https://spacearts.tumblr.com/post/626657066501750784
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 18
Kudos: 241





	Masquerade

[@spacearts Drawing](https://spacearts.tumblr.com/post/626657066501750784)

A masquerade ball wasn’t how Rio preferred to spend an evening but that’s exactly where he found himself. Gretchen suggested it, told him people worth getting to know would be there. Rio never wanted to become complacent, lose his edge. He was always looking for ways to stay ahead, stay connected. Sometimes that meant a country club membership. Sometimes that meant a fundraiser in an Arden Park mansion wearing a mask.

Rio didn’t mind. It was often in large crowded rooms like this, filled with motion and noise, that he could best watch and listen. Champagne flowed freely, waiters discretely refilled glasses and offered appetizers, knowing the right balance of food and alcohol made people looser with their wallets. Crystal chandeliers sparkled on the ceiling, casting an airy pattern across the floor. Gold string lights draped doorways and windows, wrapping the room in a soft glow but keeping it dark enough to match the mystery of the theme. Quiet, slow music thumped in the background.

People in every color and style of mask imaginable drifted through the room. Eye masks, half face masks, full face mask. Some were modeled after animals, he’d seen multiple peacocks and cats. Some were simple, others elaborate either in detail or size or both. Rio chose a simple black Phantom of the Opera mask that covered the entirety of his right side and just his eyebrow on the left. He was dressed in all black, not unusual for him, but he’d adjusted for the occasion by replacing his jeans and button down with a suit.

It was easy to blend in, to walk among the hum of whispers and clinking glasses and pick up helpful pieces of information. A huddled meeting in the corner or stolen look from across the room spoke volumes. Or like when Rio went to the bar and overheard a man in a gold fox mask mention his sizable donation. People of his stature didn’t usually brag about charity, but vodka was effecting the sway of his body, the volume of his voice, the decorum of his upper class breeding. Rio made a mental note to find out more about him and where his money came from.

He scanned the crowd as he sipped his drink, looking for more indicators of who might be worth his time, when his eyes stopped on a blonde standing at the edge of the dance floor. She wore a simple half-mask that did little to hide her identity, especially those lips, and he suddenly didn’t care about anyone else in the room. Elizabeth.

Her mask was made of black lace, a delicate pattern with a scalloped edge, perfectly sized for her eyes. Not revealing too much, not hiding her smokey makeup or deep blue eyes. He was used to seeing her in jeans and sweaters, occasionally in a dress. That purple flowery one at her kid’s birthday. That time she tried to sell him on cosmetic shit. The one that forever changed the way he looked at polka dots. But he’d never seen her like this. A velvety floor length black gown with sleeves, tight through her waist and hips, flaring out at her knees. A V-cut at her neckline the only reveal of her creamy pale skin.

She didn’t spot him so he watched her. Even from a distance, her eyes twinkled from behind her mask. He watched as she charmed the people around her, smiling and laughing. He watched her take a sip of her champagne, thought about how the bubbles would taste on her lips, noticed the imprint of red lipstick left behind on the rim of the glass.

When she turned to leave, excusing herself from the women she’d been talking to, he followed.

****************

Beth had thrown so many fundraisers, organized so many parties, that she knew how to work a crowd, knew the ebbs and flows of nights like this. She was happy to support a cause. So when the Director of her regional chambers of commerce invited her Beth said yes. Partly to raise money for a local after school art program. Partly because she wanted to give all impressions possible that Boland Bubbles was an upstanding part of the community. Besides, there was a small thrill in wearing a mask, something forbidden and seductive about it.

But nights like this could be exhausting. The small talk, the feigned interest in a new diet or whatever local gossip was buzzing through the room. Luckily Dean had declined. _Not my thing, Bethie_ , he’d said. Beth was grateful for one less nuisance.

Her mind was a million miles away. On spas and printing and fake money and profit margins. As much as Beth loved the Real Housewives, she snuck away as politely as possible when the conversation turned to whether Brandi and Denise actually slept together, exiting through a side door looking for the bathroom but finding herself in the mansion’s library.

The room was darker and subtler than the ballroom, but opulent in its own way. A large mahogany table stood in the middle of the room, the intricate woodworking and claw feet showcasing its Victorian lineage. Two dark leather couches flanked either side but it didn’t look like anyone was curling up on them for a cozy afternoon of reading. Everything in the room looked heavy and expensive and untouched.

She strolled along the ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, running her fingers over the spines of hardcovers. All of them looked old, probably first editions worth more than her car.

“Most people don’t read during a masquerade.”

The voice came from behind her but Beth recognized it immediately as it echoed off the walls, through her body.

When she turned around Rio was leaning against a bookshelf, relaxed, hands in his pockets, one ankle casually crossed over his foot as if he had all the time in the world.

His gaze froze her for a moment, pinned her in place, as she scrambled to adjust to his unexpected presence, to seeing him in a suit for the first time. She inhaled, managed to recover despite her racing heart beat.

“Just needed a little break. Getting stuffy in there.”

“What kind of story you in the mood for?”

With his mask making his expression even less discernible than usual, Beth’s other senses heightened. Her ears picked up on the husky flirty undertone in his voice, the mischief in his eyes. Masks had an interesting way of framing a person’s lips and Beth couldn’t stop staring at Rio’s.

“Pride and Prejudice.” Beth pulled the Jane Austen novel from a nearby shelf, casually flipped through the pages. She answered slowly, took her time with each word, trying to gauge what Rio was doing, what was coming next. “Just the story of a girl trying to be a good, happy person in the world, help her family. But a rude man is always interfering.”

A slow smile spread across Rio’s lips as he stood up straight and took a few steps towards Beth.

“I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug. “I think Elizabeth Bennet judged Darcy too quickly.”

Beth’s eyebrows arched above her mask. She shouldn’t have been surprised Rio was versed in classic literature. Of course he was.

“Well, he’s so stubborn and distant. You can’t blame her.”

“Nah. He’s a good guy. He just likes working behind the scenes.” Rio stepped closer. “Besides, it’s all about love in the end, not money. You get your happily ever after.”

Rio knew the story well. So did Beth. She could relate to the Bennet sisters’ adventures with love and marriage. Neither were easy, not now, not back then. But Elizabeth and Darcy, two people from two different worlds, learned from each other, saw their faults, adjusted, and fell in love. Despite their miscommunications, their rocky start, the heartbreak along the way. Beth stayed silent, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation.

Rio crossed the room until he was standing in front of her, crowding her, close enough to take the book from her hands and place it back on the shelf behind her without moving his eyes off her.

“You look good, Elizabeth.”

The simple compliment did what it always did whenever Rio paid attention to her, looked at her as if there was no one else in the world. Her breath caught, her stomach flipped. She got turned on.

Beth tried for a long time to will away her attraction to Rio. After his rise from the dead it was easy. He was trying to kill her, she was trying to kill him. There were more important things to focus on. But when they reached their tentative detente, when her spa system started working, when they started spending more time together it got harder and harder to brush it aside. Especially when he started teasing, using innuendo to hint at his thoughts. Like taking a dip in a hot tub. Or looking her up and down during pick ups. Not that she discouraged it, paying extra attention to her hair and outfits every Thursday.

As she looked at Rio standing across from her, she saw a man she wanted to be like, she wanted to be with. Wanting was such a painful, torturous emotion though. Resisting him, day after day, exhausted her soul. The shimmer of the masquerade, the cocoon of this dark libary, this quiet moment between them, started relieving that ache. Her mask was small, barely a disguise, but it was all she needed to let her guard down just a little bit. This night was all about putting on the facade of a different person, and Beth knew how to do that well.

Tomorrow she’d return to normal. Juggling the Paper Porcupine and Boland Bubbles, Dean and carpools and school lunches. She’d go back to battling the man in front of her. Their story would end somehow, but it didn’t have to be right now. Tonight, Beth was playing a part and she was in the mood to be the person who wanted to give into everything Rio offered, to stop ignoring the effect he had on her. To be the version of herself that only Rio seemed to bring out. Bold and confident and sexy and aroused. She stared hard at him. Wondering, hoping if her eyes could silently say everything she was feeling.

Beth could imagine what was coming next. There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t want it. Rio seemed to want it too, inching closer until her body vibrated from his nearness, from anticipation. She could feel him everywhere even though he wasn’t touching her.

She was vaguely aware of the quiet bustle of the party happening outside, but she let go of all the reasons this was a mistake, and brushed her lips against Rio’s, soft and gentle, a little hesitant.

It wasn’t just a kiss after all. It was the newest thread in the twisted fabric of of their relationship. There was the money and the stealing and the violence and that bathroom and the sex and those three gunshots and now this. Months of confusion and pain and tears and pent up frustration rose to the surface, but Rio didn’t seem to care. He rushed forward, kissing her back, hard and rough and desperate. Beth was immediately dizzy from it, clutching at his shoulders as the kiss turned a little wild, as he pressed her up against the bookshelves. Mouth over skin, tongues tangling, bodies grinding together, lips becoming hotter and wetter.

Rio yanked off his mask, but Beth turned her head when he moved towards hers.

“Leave it,” she whispered. Rio smirked at her quiet command and moved on to her neck, her collarbone, nibbling on her ear, pleasure spiraling from wherever his lips touched. Rio tugged at the zipper of her dress, yanking it off her body until it pooled on the floor, until the world spiraled away little more.

His hands were everywhere at once. Beth’s body followed them, like she couldn’t bear not being touched. Rio traced the swell of her breasts against the black lace of her bra, first with his fingers then with his lips. Beth moaned when his hand dipped inside the wet fabric of her panties, louder when he pushed a finger inside her, stroked her with his thumb. She immediately arched into him, seeking more friction. It didn’t take long for Beth’s vision to blur, her her legs to shake. Sensations built on top of sensations until everything turned into a burst of blissful static.

When Beth managed to open her eyes, unaware it was possible to came that fast or that hard from just fingers, Rio’s eyes were on her, hot but questioning. Was this it? Or just the beginning?

Beth answered by pulling off his suit jacket, fumbling with his pant zipper while Rio took care of the rest of his clothes. She stepped out of her panties but Rio swatted her hands when she moved to her thigh high stockings.

“Leave it,” he whispered, circling the little bow on the side. Beth smiled, mentally noting his preference, and moved on. 

Beth watched his jaw relax, his eyes float close, his lips part as she stroked him, hard and heavy and thick in her hands. She felt him give himself over to her.

This is what Rio offered her. Power.

Something small and primal and urgent snapped in Beth and she pulled Rio onto the floor.

She straddled him, lowered onto him in a smooth motion. They’d done this position once before, so the way he stretched and filled her felt familiar, but also new. He was so deep inside her she gasped, a quiet little sound. But she relaxed into the rhythm of riding him. Her hands held him down at his chest, Rio’s gripped at her hips, as if trying to hold each in other place before this all went away. 

She started slow, sliding her wetness up and down before picking up speed. Her bra was still on but her chest bounced. Noticing, Rio pushed aside the fabric, cupping her, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her tightening skin.

Beth closed her eyes, her head thrown back in pleasure, but she felt Rio’s gaze on her as she got lost in the sensations of them moving together. She fucked him as he fucked her, his hips thrusting up to meet her. Murmurs and moans filled the air, grew louder. Hers or his she wasn’t sure.

Beth rocked faster and harder against the sensation building between her legs, until everything turned into a white hot blur, until she collapsed onto Rio’s chest, trembling, feeling him pulse inside her.

It was only then, breathless and sweaty and blissed out, that Beth took off her mask. After all, there was no real way to hide who she was, what she needed, what she wanted.


End file.
